“Chancellor on deck!” Admiral Mercer boomed across Hood Canal.
His voice was sixty decibels of mountain quarry explosive, reverberating through the acoustic timber like heavy naval artillery:
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“Natalie Eleanor Mercer.”
“Master Trustee, The 1944 Mercer Sovereign Lineal Charter.”
“And Sole Lineal Custodian of Conduit Ten.”
Marcus Hale let out an ear-splitting, strangulated shriek from the mud, his hands clawing at his chest as his entire thirty-one-billion-dollar manufactured reality dissolved into ash:
“DAVID MERCER…?! Four stars…?! The Chief of Naval Operations…?! Why… why is the military seizing a commercial utility site?!”
Vice Admiral David Mercer slowly lowered his salute, his cold, flint-gray eyes shifting down to lock directly onto Marcus Hale and Arthur Vance with thirty tons of sub-zero naval diamond:
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He reached into his bridge coat, withdrawing an unsealed, red-labeled federal capias arrest warrant stamped with the raised gold seal of the UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT:
“Former Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance, Marcus Alexander Hale, and Vivian Cross,” Admiral Mercer announced: “Three hours ago, naval forensic intelligence unsealed your commercial factoring correspondence in Vaduz, Liechtenstein—and you have just attempted the armed seditious dispossession of an active sovereign defense redoubt of the United States of America!”
